


It Happened One Night

by DownToTheSea



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Fluff, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownToTheSea/pseuds/DownToTheSea
Summary: Lucy and Flynn watching movies on the couch, and what happens after. (Set immediately after 2x05.)





	It Happened One Night

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I'd be posting another fic so soon, but then THAT SCENE HAPPENED AND I'M STILL DYING OVER IT. And falling asleep on each other is pretty much my favorite ship thing of all time, so when the show set me up so perfectly for it, I just couldn't resist. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Lucy finished off her beer just as the film was ending. She hadn’t moved or said a word since she’d accepted it from Flynn, just kept staring blankly at the black-and-white figures on the TV. Still, she felt a little lighter than she had before he sat down next to her.

It probably didn’t have anything to do with it being Flynn; it was just nice to not be all alone. But anyone else probably would have wanted her to talk about it, and Lucy didn’t want to talk about it right now. What she wanted to do was curl up on this couch and watch an old comfort movie that she’d seen a million times before. He seemed content to let her do so in peace, and she was grateful for that.

Leaning forward, she set the empty bottle down on the table before resuming her former position. Music swelled over the ending title card, and Lucy still didn’t move. She’d kind of expected Flynn to leave by now, since he’d had a hell of a day too and it was now past midnight, but he stayed put, nursing his own drink.

Another movie started auto-playing, and Lucy groaned, recognizing the music immediately.  _ Casablanca.  _ Usually it was one of her very favorites, but she didn’t think she could take a tale of tragic love at the moment.

Wordlessly, Flynn leaned over, picked up the remote, and switched back to the home screen. Lucy watched with mild interest as he scrolled through a bunch of sci-fi recommendations from all of Rufus and Jiya’s viewing activity until he stopped in the Classic Films section. She smiled slightly at the image on the screen.

_ How to Steal a Million.  _ Lucy had worshipped Audrey Hepburn when she was a kid. She’d written a report on her for school in fourth grade and exceeded the page requirement by double. Her mother had been so proud of her.

Her mother. The smile slid off Lucy’s face, but instead of the heaviness she’d expected to come crashing down on her, a kind of fierce determination came in its place. Her passion for history might have begun because of her mother, true, but it was  _ hers  _ now, and she wouldn’t let anything or anyone take it away from her.

Flynn glanced over at her, his finger hovering over the remote. She lifted her shoulder and gave a miniscule nod, and he pressed play.

As it loaded, Lucy’s neck gave a twinge of pain. Probably stiff from lying here for several hours, she thought dryly. She shifted a little until she was settled in comfortably again, a hair closer to Flynn but still leaving distance between them. He propped his feet up on the table, his absurdly long legs stretching out beyond hers and displacing some of the stuff that had been scattered there.

Lucy let out a small, mostly silent huff of amusement, and settled in to watch the movie.

It had been a while since she’d seen this, and she found smiling along with the snappy dialogue. Flynn finished his drink twenty minutes in, but all he did was set the bottle down like she had and lean back, his arms crossed.

As she watched, Lucy drifted a little, wondering if she’d ever meet Audrey Hepburn. Who knew? Maybe someday a mission would take them back into the 1960s and they’d cross paths with one of Lucy’s childhood heroes. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, which Lucy would have thought was insane two years ago.

Her eyes blinked open before she’d realized she had shut them. It was about fifteen minutes past the last scene she remembered watching, and Nicole and Simon were about to begin their heist. Flynn didn’t seem to have noticed her brief nap, but Lucy couldn’t read his face from this angle. As much as she loved this movie, she begrudgingly admitted to herself that she was finally starting to feel the effects of the day she’d had (or week, or months… it was kind of hard to tell at this point.)

What she should have done was shut it down, get up, and go to bed. But the heist was her favorite part. She could make it just a little longer…

Lucy’s eyes closed against her will, her head lolling farther and farther to her side. In the movie, Simon set off the blaring alarms with his boomerang, but they seemed distant and fuzzy to her ears. Then everything went quiet again.

 

When she woke up, the room was pitch-dark, the TV having long since turned itself off. She still felt sluggish, but she was less bone-tired than she’d been earlier, although her arm was throbbing again. The only audible noise was Flynn breathing deeply, still next to her and clearly asleep.

And close. Lucy blinked her gritty eyes, turning her head, and discovered that she was curled up not against a remarkably warm couch cushion, but on Flynn himself. It didn’t look like he’d moved in the slightest since she’d fallen asleep.

Except that his cheek was definitely resting on her hair. Lucy was certain of that, just like she was certain that if he hadn’t moved, then  _ she  _ had been the one to clear the distance between them in her sleep.

That was easy enough to explain, or at least that’s what Lucy told herself. After all, he was the closest source of heat and the bunker could get chilly at night. But she did wonder when they’d gotten to the point where they could fall asleep next to each other without the slightest apprehension. After Salem? Or had it started before that? In the deepest corner of her sleep-addled mind, Lucy felt that  _ something  _ with Flynn had started before Salem, even if she couldn’t put a name on it.

Whatever it was, she was in no mood to think any more about it. Really, all she wanted to do was go back to sleep, and it was a choice between Flynn’s shoulder and her own bed. Right now the former was winning: she was still exhausted, and not having to drag herself all the way back to her room sounded pretty damn great. His chest rose and fell rhythmically under her.

To hell with it. Lucy let her eyes flicker closed, her head resting back against him, and as she drifted off to sleep again she dimly imagined she might have felt the steady beating of his heart.

 

Pre-dawn light was creeping into the bunker when Lucy became aware of a chill breath of air on her face, replacing the solid, warm pillow under her cheek that had just slipped soundlessly away. It took her a while to return to full wakefulness this time, long enough for the aforementioned pillow to leave the room, return, stub his toe on a carelessly pushed in chair, swear inventively and not especially quietly, and spread a few blankets over her.

Her eyes opened as Flynn stepped back to survey his handiwork. “Morning.” Her voice was thick and fuzzy with sleep.

He gave her an awkward sort of jerking nod, like he hadn’t expected her to wake up. “Morning.” It was clearly meant to be an exit, albeit not a polite one, and he rounded the couch behind her, starting to walk away.

Lucy reached her good arm back and caught his hand, her fingertips just grazing his knuckles. “You can stay if you want,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t even sure what made her offer. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you for staying with her last night. Or maybe it was that, with the sort of certainty that only came when her brain had been turning a problem over all night, Lucy realized that she would have missed him if he left.

Flynn looked down at their hands and turned his slowly, palm sliding across her fingers, and although she couldn’t see him she could feel him hesitate. Then, just as her fingers curled slightly into his, there was the distinct clang of a door being shut from down the hall, and he dropped her hand quickly. “Sleep well,” he whispered, and was gone.

Lucy shrugged and turned to burrow deeper into the couch. “Fine,” she told the cushions sleepily. “Leave all the blankets for me. You probably would've hogged them all anyway.”

Lucy chuckled at her own joke and snuggled into her little cocoon, a faint smile on her face.


End file.
